The Hand of Your Raising

Is it your nature to be kind,
or just the hand of your raising?
I didn't know you before I met you,
and I don't know if I know you now.

It was in the morning when you left,
after a night of talking nonsense.
I hated for you to leave that way
but I watched you go nonetheless.

Now I feel red like the carpet on my bedroom floor
Full of loaded words
and nothing I ain't heard from you before.

Should I have followed you out the door?
Instead of holding it all open.
Like the way that you held me not so long ago.

I wear my cards on my sleeve,
but you leave yours in the shadows.
Looming so deep and in darkness
do you think that I could see?

Now I feel red like the carpet on my bedroom floor
Full of loaded words
and nothing I ain't heard from you before.
Now, I feel red like the carpet on my bedroom floor,
And I'm not sure how I should write you anymore.

Is it your nature to be kind,
or just the hand of your raising?